Prompt 017 -- Fear
by TheOneThatGotAway99
Summary: [Prompt 17 of Stealthy Stories 100 Prompts Challenge. Rated T for blood and my own paranoia] Character study. One-shot. 'Fearless Leader' contemplates what fear really means, and just how fearless he is. Is fear truly a weakness?


_Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT, but it would be awesome if I did. I own only my thoughts about fear, both the good and bad of it._

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**Fear**

Is fear truly a weakness? Does fear serve no other purpose than to cripple and paralyze? Caution is derived from fear, is it not? And caution leads to vigilance; and vigilance to safety. If only indirectly on that last point. Without that caution and vigilance, or as my brothers like to call it my paranoia, we would get ourselves into giant heaps of trouble. Well, erm, more so than what we already do, anyway.

So I ask again, is fear truly a weakness? Surely fear strong enough to drive you into inaction. But fear in of itself, when controlled and channeled, can be a strength, rather than downfall. Raphael calls me "Fearless Leader" both as an insult, and compliment; for while he says it in spite, I also know that it's because that is how he sees me. Fearless, perfect, indestructible. Oh little brother, how very wrong you are.

I am far from fearless. While my silly outward fear of heights, incapacitating as it was, was easily overcome when I knew I had to act, and is now nothing more than an annoying nudge in the back of my mind as I leap across any particularly tall buildings; my inward fears are much harder to overcome. My fear of failure, of failing to protect my brothers and Sensei, of them being hurt or-or killed, despite my continual promises to protect their lives with my own, body and soul, until my final breath and beyond. . . I do not believe I will ever conquer that fear. And because of that, I use it, turning fear into passion, fueling my determination, urging my drive for . . . well, _perfection_.

But I am not perfect. Nor will I ever be. Loathe as I am to admit it, I know it to be true. Michelangelo is faster, more agile. Donatello is smarter, more thoughtful in his actions. And you, Raphael, are stronger, more confident. And that is just in battle. I have many more short comings in our day to day lives that I can't even begin to count. But it just proves my point. I am not perfect. And in that imperfection, I find I am not indestructible either. For had I been perfect and indestructible just moments ago, perhaps I would not be bleeding on this rooftop now.

Neither of us are fearless, little brother, as I discovered seeing the fear in your eyes through the small screen on the communicator when I had told you of my situation; when I heard the fear in your voice, desperate as you were to suppress it, when you tried to sooth and reassure me, telling me to "hold on, stay awake, I'm on my way". It is fear that drives you now, is it not? Fear lighting the fire of passion and determination, pushing you on as you rush to where I lay hidden in the nightly shadows, kneeling in a pool of my own blood, as you nearly drag our two youngest brothers along after you.

To fear nothing is not strength or courage, it is stupidity. To fear not is to care not. And as you cross the roof towards me, the fear I see in those three pairs of eyes, golden amber, warm brown, and baby blue, fuels my determination. Your strong arms encircle me, Raphael, as Donatello tends my wounds as best he can, stopping the flow of life blood pouring from me, Michelangelo cupping my cheeks with his warm hands, offering soothing words of comfort and reassurance.

As I am gently lifted and carried back home, surrounded in warmth and care, I do not fear the pain I know I will awake to come morning, for it is nothing compared to the fear of not waking up at all. The fear of leaving my brothers alone, unprotected; to great is that fear to overcome as well. I hold tight to that fear, for with it comes resolve. Resolve to hold on, to keep fighting; to live.

"Don't worry, Fearless," your gruff voice whispers softly in my ear. "We got ya."

For the first time in my memory, I smile at the nickname, before falling into peaceful slumber, so unlike the cold, fearful unknown of death that I had faced only moments ago.

My last thought before the safe, warm darkness encloses my mind, is that fear does have a purpose, but it is not as strong as love.

_Perfectus_

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_Author's Notes: I just want to say: YES! LEO LIVES! This was not a death fic, just introspection on Leo's part about fear and how it affects him. I tried to make it as obvious as possible, but without stating it outright, I feared some would misinterpret the ending. Also, the way it changes from Leo talking to himself, talking to Raph, and talking to someone else entirely throughout; that was intended. Leo's thoughts are a bit . . . scattered, due to the blood loss. _

_Oddly enough, I started writing this as a channel for my own fears and nervousness about things going on in my life recently. It started as an examination of fear, and became this. . . Kind of hit me out of nowhere, but aren't those the best kind, really? The ones that just sneak up on you. Funny that all my 'sneak attack' stories are about Leo. . . _

_-TheOneThatGotAway99_


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